Keeper's Tavern: The Land Where Time Stands Still
by Mira Minn
Summary: A girl walks into a bar... the other one ducks. No, just a standard fantasy romp; two femme fighters from Dragon Court.


Keeper's Tavern seemed unusually noisy, even for a Saturday evening, but Melane had found that she was generally able to tune out the half- drunken banter and enthusiastic stories fairly easily. Tonight was proving to be no exception—after seating herself at one of the antiquated wooden tables along the wall, the conversational air all but vanished from her senses. Thus she nearly overlooked the slender, brown-haired girl who was standing almost expectantly beside the table, and had apparently spoken to her. Quickly digging the memory of the greeting out of her subconscious, Melane smiled amiably, and nodded a salutation of her own.  
  
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything…?" the girl asked unsteadily.  
  
"No, no—I was just in a trance, thinking," was Melane's hasty response. "I am Melane; may I ask your name?"  
  
"I am Baroness Bresadienne. I—"  
  
Melane was up on her feet just as the title had barely escaped Bresadienne's lips. After a slight pause and a suddenly knowing smile, she continued.  
  
"—I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance."  
  
Issuing a dramatic bow, emphatic as if to make up for its belated entrance into the conversation, Melane made certain that the baroness had concluded her thought before adding an apology. "Forgive my rudeness, my lady; I was unaware of your noble standing."  
  
The baroness smiled in such a way that a rippling glow of benignity seemed to radiate from her eyes and into her features. "It's quite alright. Do you mind if I join you?"  
  
"Please do."  
  
Bresadienne seated herself without the haughty dignity that Melane was accustomed to seeing in nobles, but with a more natural ease. The peasant kept her eyes glued to her new, rather attractive companion, and asked with playful suspicion, "You weren't born into nobility, were you?"  
  
Appearing hurt or at least caught off-guard, the girl met Melane's gaze, adding with a half-smile, "No; I've been petitioning the queen for a little while, and just today received the title. It's the lowest noble rank, not much to be proud of. Anyone could achieve it."  
  
The girl's expression was effectively transferred to Melane's face; she now appeared demeaned on the very basest of levels. Fixing her eyes on the table, she replied sheepishly, "I've been working to become a baroness for some time, and have not yet gained any status at all."  
  
Bresadienne frowned sympathetically. "It's all a matter of having the right contacts. I just happened to make a good impression with one of the queen's right-hand women, and I guess that's what helped me out. I could put in a good word for you; I don't know how much they'd value my opinion, but for what it's worth…" She looked to Melane with a hopeful, coercing confidence that buoyed the peasant's spirits, and brought a small curve to the corners of her mouth.  
  
"Thank you. I'd appreciate that." Now conscious of the dull roar in the tavern, Melane glanced uneasily around at the others gathered nearby before returning her focus to her companion. "Would you like to go somewhere less noisy? I have a room rented…"  
  
"Sure; that sounds fine. Crowds make me a little leery."  
  
Rising from the table, Melane made her way to the back of the tavern area and down a corridor, followed by the baroness. She paused before the second to last door on the right, and fishing through her pockets, quickly retrieved the key and unlocked the room. The door creaked on its hinges at the agitation of being thrust inward, and the two women entered. The accomodations were decent—a warm feather bed lay against the left wall, its length taking up most of the room, and a small table with two chairs was just off to the other side of a window on the far wall. Melane gingerly lit the candle in the center of the table, and pulled out one of the wooden chairs for Bresadienne, sitting opposite it in the other. Bresadienne seated herself in much the same manner she had before, but with more consciousness on exhibiting a predefined grace.  
  
Leaning forward with casual interest, Melane began the conversation anew. "What areas do you frequent, aside from the Salamander Township?"  
  
The baroness slipped a lock of her shoulder-length, auburn-brown hair behind an ear before responding. "I spend a lot of my time in the forest outside the town, finding what adventures I can there." She smiled with such sweetness that Melane was hard-pressed to envision her in battle. "What about you?"  
  
"I tend to all but live in the mountains just beyond."  
  
"Oh, wow… I haven't stayed in those mountains for any length of time. I can't quite handle most of the things up there," Bresadienne admitted.  
  
"Well, I died several times before I learned what creatures to avoid. Wyvern hypnosis and troll regeneration keep me on my toes. And I have sour memories of the same orange dragon that guards the opening to a mine shaft. I suppose it killed me, or something else took me down from behind… I can't quite remember. But there are some fantastic weapons up there." Melane took the opportunity to heft up her giant mauls from her side. "These are especially nice, once you get used to their feel. They do about twice as much damage as some of the best elven bows." She then offered one to Bresadienne. "Would you like to handle them?"  
  
Bresadienne nodded, and rose, taking the proffered weapon, and trying a few practice slashes at the air. "This is quite nice. May I see the other?"  
  
With an affirmative smile, Melane handed it to her, and at a safe distance, Bresadienne tested a few dual-weapon fighting maneuvers.  
  
"Very nice," the baroness finally concluded, returning the mauls to Melane.  
  
"I could get you a couple if you'd like, and send them via the castle's mail," she offered.  
  
"Oh, are you a knight? Or do you have a castle permit?"  
  
"Well, I've kind of been taking down the guards as I go and as I need to. It wouldn't be any trouble to get to the mailing service."  
  
Bresadienne quirked a brow. "Those guards are much stronger than I am; you must have a fair amount of skill. But you know, killing the royal guards may hinder your ability to gain the queen's favor," she teased impishly.  
  
Melane snickered. "Yes, I suppose so… I hadn't thought of that."  
  
On a more serious note, Bresadienne continued. "How much would you like for the mauls?"  
  
"Oh, don't worry about money. I'll have them for you as soon as I get another pair."  
  
The baroness appeared surprised. "You mean you don't want a single mark for them?"  
  
"Nah." Melane grinned.  
  
"Well, uh… thank you. That's very kind of you." She blinked several times, trying to understand the nature of this favor.  
  
"For a lovely lady of the court like yourself, it is my pleasure." Concluding the gesture, Melane made a sort of demi-bow, but with all the drama of a full salute.  
  
Bresadienne giggled, her cheeks taking on a rose coloration. "You're just like all those flirtatious noblemen. All flattery and good deeds."  
  
Grinning and adding a token wink, the peasant replied, "Have you seen an overflow of flirtatious noblemen?"  
  
"No, not really. And it's probably all the better—I've never been too keen on noblemen."  
  
"I don't believe that. I'm sure you have a harem already." Melane smirked, leaning back in her chair.  
  
"Of noblemen? Ugh, no…"  
  
"Of women?"  
  
Bresadienne laughed in a musical way that confusingly contradicted her heavy mithril and chainmail. "Well, that would probably be better than noblemen… but no."  
  
"I see." Melane yawned and stretched her arms. "I believe I'm going to turn in soon. You're welcome to stay if you'd like, but a woman-about- town such as yourself probably has more interesting things to do."  
  
Bresadienne smiled, and stood slowly. "Thank you for the company. It was quite enjoyable." With that, she shuffled over to Melane, who was still sprawled in the chair, and gave her a peck on the cheek before turning to leave.  
  
Surprised but not without her senses, Melane was not about to leave that reciprocation of flirtatious advances unanswered. She sprung up from the chair as if the girl's lips had magically granted her some delayed animation, and touched the baroness lightly on the shoulder. At this prompt, Bresadienne whirled around, and looked to the peasant questioningly. Melane put her hands on the girl's waist, and drawing her closer, followed up with a kiss on the forehead. "Stay out of trouble," she added slyly.  
  
For one instant, Bresadienne grinned in the same crooked manner, but in the next second her devious smile was replaced with the light-hearted, uncalculating demeanor that Melane had first noticed in her. With a sweet but serious expression, she ventured one last look into Melane's eyes before turning and walking out the door in one fluid motion, shutting it slowly behind her.  
  
When the peasant heard the latch catch in the door, she exhaled sharply, ruffling her short, dirty-blond hair. That was the most phenomenal amount of self-control I've ever been required to exert, she thought, shaking her head in disbelief. Do coquettish girls have to endure the same thing? If they do, it must be a thousand times worse. With these and other thoughts clamoring in her head, Melane stripped off her armor, piling it in a corner, and pulled back the bedsheets. She paused, staring absently into space for some time as thoughts continued to materialize, but finally regained control of her mind, and tiptoed over to the table, blowing out the candle with one quick breath. Melane watched the smoke curl up for a few moments as it caught the scattered moonlight and shone against the night sky's presence at the window. Then, she quietly climbed onto the mattress, and immediately felt it begin to conform to her body; sliding down between the covers, she snuggled into the bedsheets, and drifted away into the subconscious. 


End file.
